Page 95 of Holiday Hopefuls
“Marigold,” Prescott chides, mortified. “Oliver doesn’t have to say it if he doesn’t want to.”
To his credit, Oliver only laughs. “It’s all good, man,” he says to my brother. Then, he turns that beautiful smile toward Goldie. “Goodnight, Marigold. I love you, too,” he whispers.
“And you love Aunt Callie, too?” my niece asks boldly.
Off to my right, Prescott looks ready to wither away from embarrassment.
Oliver’s eyes never leave mine as he nods. “Yeah, I do.”
Eyes wide, my heart stops as my niece looks proudly from Oliver to myself.
Imogene moves toward the stairs. “Marigold, wanna help me sprinkle the reindeer food on your balcony?” The urgency in her voice would make me laugh if I wasn’t ready to vomit.
Goldie wiggles out of Oliver’s hold. “Aunt Genny, we have to put out the cookies before we go to bed, too. Come on!” Goldiegrabs onto Imogene’s closest hand, attempting to lead her to the stairs.
“Night,” Imogene calls from halfway up the staircase.
Connie snickers as our older sister is led away by the force of a seven-year-old. “I think I’d better go make sure Imogene doesn’t get hurt. Especially if she wakes Chris.” My sister tucks me in for a quick hug before turning back to the others. “Prescott, let’s go.” Giving a pointed look to our brother, she motions to the stairs.
Frowning, he looks between us. “When did you become so bossy?”
“Since your daughter led our tipsy sister upstairs,” she states as he walks past her. “Goodnight Calloway, Oliver.” She grins at each of us in turn before following him.
“And then there were two.” I can hear the grin in Oliver’s voice without even looking at him.
My brow furrows as I finally allow myself to take him in, ethereal in the Christmas tree glow. Did seeing him play with my sweet niece make him even more attractive than he already was?
Without a doubt.
Am I now extremely aware that Connie may just be right? That I should probably tell him how I feel, regardless of the timeline we gave ourselves?
Annoyingly so.
Besides, even if he doesn’t feel the same, we could always just be friends. I don’t think I can picture my life without him there in some capacity at this point, anyway.
So will I survive if he doesn’t feel the way I do?
Doubtful.
“Two?” But as I twist to take in the rest of the room, the sound of the master bedroom door shutting echoes throughout the living area. I huff. “Two.” The familiar record continues filling the cozy room when a hand appears between us.
“Dance with me?” Oliver gives me an encouraging smile.
Swallowing, I shake my head. “I, um, I don’t really dance much.”
Dark blond brows lift. “You sure did that night at Theo’s when Aaron’s band played.”
“That was different.”
“How?”
Shrugging, I fold my arms. “It was comfortable. I didn’t care if I looked like an idiot.”
“I promise not to let you look foolish, Cal,” he says, voice tender. Light blue eyes search mine. Nodding to his still-outstretched hand, he whispers, “Please?”
My arms disentangle themselves without my permission, reaching out for the warmth I know waits in his embrace.
Stepping forward, Oliver takes my hand in his while the other snakes around my waist, moving us to the winter rhythm. The intoxicating blend of cinnamon apples and sheer masculinity envelopes me.
